A Choice
by Beauty'sInTheEye
Summary: It's about the choice. The choice to save something. The choice to save yourself.  Rated T for adult themes. Romance builds up in later chapters.
1. A Choice Ch 1

**Alright, this is my first story, just to let you know. It's based off a fear that I had, that I couldn't get over. So, I wrote about it, to see if I could get it out of my mind. I was able to get the fear out, and replace it with 'Where the heck is this story going?'. :) It went from a way to let out my thoughts, to something I couldn't quite put away. So I kept on writing, and am still writing now. Thank you for reading. :)**

~*~

You know the saying "The night of your life is when you'll die"? Yeah. I've already had the 'night of my life'; I've already died. On the inside, at least. My name is Camryn Gaithe. When I was fourteen, I was raped. This is my story.

_I rememeber that night so clearly. Of course I would. I'm not going to make this sound cliché, and say 'It was like it was yesterday', then fade into the background._

_Finally, dance class!_I thought as I walked up to the studio door. Once every week, I took clogging classes. It was probably the easiest and most fun dance to take, so I came whenever I could. Uusally, it was all girls, with me, Mrs. Megan, the instructor, and a few older girls. But today, there was a guy who looked about 17, sitting there in the studio, putting on clogging shoes. I smiled at him, being polite.

_If only I knew what he was there for, then I would have never glanced at him. It was that one smile that changed my life forever._

"Okay, this is Jay. He's going to be taking a few classes with us here." Mrs. Megan said. The older girls started giving him looks that made me want to puke."So, we're going to show you some routines, you're welcome to join us if you want to." He nodded. She turned toward the other girls.  
>"Remember, during the last chorus, you're going to turn on the Samanthas, but still do the Joeys."<p>

She put on **Boogie Shoes by KC and the Sunshine Band**. I couldn't help but grin. That's one thing about clogging: It's impossible to feel bad, or frown while you clog. For me, it's a way to lose myself, forget all that's happing, and just be. No thinking, or acting, I can just be. Be me.

We clogged through the routine one time before Jay decided to join in. Much to the girls dismay, he stood next to me, and only me. He was on my left, and I had been the last one on that side.

_I should have been scared then. But I wasn't._

He was actually pretty good, long story short.

Class ended at about eight O'clock, and I started walking home. It wasn't that long of a walk, just a few blocks. I still had the sound of metal plates clicking together with each step fron the routine, so I hadn't even heard or noticed the footsteps sounding behind me. That was the mistake that would cost me.

_Even now, four years later, I wonder why I was walking. It was a small walk, but it was dark. Everybody knows you shouldn't walk home alone after dark._

Finally, I noticed them, the footsteps. Especially when they came to a halt as a cloth covered hand reached out from behind me, covering my mouth, shutting off my supply of conciousness.

**Thank you for reading this! Criticism is welcome. Though, before you make it too harsh, please know the story will get better (hopefully) in the next few chapters. Thanks, and DFTBA!**


	2. A Choice Ch 2

When I woke up, I wasn't lying in my bed, the ceiling fan whirring above me. I was sitting on what felt like a cold bed in a dark room, and my hands were tied behind my back, with my legs bound. I could barely make out some chairs in the room. Other than that, the room was pretty bare. Then I remembered why I wasn't at home, and my thoughts didn't help as the bile slowly rose in my throat.

_Crap. This is what I get for walking home alone at night. They teach you not to do that in 2nd grade, and hand you that **Stranger Danger** coloring packet. Well, I hated my 2nd grade teacher and thought everything she said to us was a lie. But I've learned my lesson now. She may have kept us from going to recess because we didn't finish our chocolate pudding, making us throw up on the tire swing, but now I understand. _

About an hour later (at least, what I think is an hour; it's a little hard to tell when there's no light.), I heard voices outside where I presumed the door was.

"C'mon, you made a bet, now just go and do it." A male voice jaunts.

"Don't you mean, do _her_?" Another answers, a cackle following.

"Shut up. I was drunk. I didn't know they were going to act that way." A voice grumbles. They sounded familiar... "Can't you just let it go? Then, you wouldn't have had to go through all this trouble."

"Nope." The first voice said. "A bet's a bet, and when you lose a bet, you have to pay. So go **** her and get it over with, Jay."_ Jay?_

_It can't be him, _my hopefull side thought. _It can't._

_Oh, but it is, _my realistic side countered as the three spoke a little more. My mind went back to the conversation. _'Jay'... 'do her'..._

My train of thought stopped as the door opened, and a person, definetly male, walked in, shutting the door behind them. Without realizing it, a whimper started in the back of my throat, and tears pricked my eyes before a hand covered my mouth, cutting off the whimper, lips brushing my ear.

"I'm sorry," is what I think I hear as he climbs on top of me, pushing me down into the hard mattress.

I won't describe to you what happens next, because I can't. I guess I blocked my mind from subconsciously recording what was happening to me. Whatever it was, I don't remember anything, and years later, I'm thankful for that. But I couldn't block out the pain. It hurt. Hurt more than breaking all your toes, then dancing in pointe shoes two sizes too small. More than watching your family and loved ones die before your eyes, and you knew how to save them, but couldn't get there in time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~four days later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sat in front of the small cake and blew out the '15' shaped candles, while my parents sang "-Happy Birthday dear Camryn!" I didn't smile though.

I know you're probably wondering what happened during the past few days. Well, after I was kidnapped and… raped. Jay had knocked me out again with the damp cloth, which I now know had been soaked in Chloroform. I had woken up the next day tired, feeling sick, and hurting in places I never knew could hurt in an alley behind a small grocery. Somehow, I walked into the store, asked the cashier for help, and they called the police, who came to the store and took me to the station. There I met up with my parents, who told me I had been missing for about three days. My Dad hugged me, and I tense up a bit, but still hugged him back. Mom practically suffocated me with her scrawny little arms around my neck and shoulders. I then had to tell the officers all I knew, including that I knew who Jay was. I don't know why, but it felt wrong to tell them that.

The following day, they found and arrested Jay for kidnapping and rape. It was then I learned his full name, Japheth Levi Harrison.

That was three days ago. Today's my birthday. I'm fifteen now. I should be happy. I'm safe at home, with my parents. They're surely happy. But I can't get these few sentences off my mind.

_Everybody knows what happens when you have unprotected sex, if you can call it that. Then why the heck are they not worried? I know they're happy to see me, but it's like they're oblivious to the unspoken question in the air._ Could I be pregnant?

"Hey, Mom, Dad, can we go to the store real quick? I'll take my own money."

They turned to me. "Oh, don't worry, we'll pay for it. It's your birthday. What exactly do you need?" Mom asked, but I could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew what I needed. She shouldn't have to ask.

"I'll get it when we're there. But can you drive me?"

They nodded. With that, we rode to the nearest Wal-Mart. It was silent in the car, a little awkward, but not really tense.

We walked in, and I headed straight for the pregnancy tests. My Dad stiffened a little, but said nothing. I picked up three different ones, so I could make sure, then walked over to the cashier, who –thankfully- was an older woman. She rung them up with a sympathetic smile on her face, and I just looked at the floor.

Once I walked into the door, I high-tailed it to the bathroom, and locked the door. I'll tell you, it's weird having to 'go' on a small piece of plastic, but it could be worse. I use up one from all three boxes.

It had to be the most nerve-wracking five minutes of my life. When I finally turned over all the tests and saw the little ribbon of red on all of them, my question had been answered.

_Why, yes, yes I could be pregnant._


	3. A Choice Ch 3

I stared in shock at the ribbons of plastic. It can't be true. I can't be pregnant. I just can't. It's not possible. Oh, but it is. The three tests that are all positive are enough proof. But that doesn't mean I wanted it to be true.

I walked out to my parents, who were sitting in the living room. They both turned to me. I can tell they already know what I'm going to say, but they're still curious about how I'm taking it all in. The only thing I can say is: "I've seen enough red ribbons of plastic to last me three lifetimes."

Mom gave me a sympathetic smile, much like the Wal-Mart counter lady's ,and pulled me into a tight hug. I may not be one for hugging, especially after my 'incident', but when she hugged me, I wrap my arms around her and hug her fiercely back, crying into her shoulder. My dad stood up to join in our little hug fest. It's a perfect Kodak Moment: A family huddled together, the young teen's face streaked with tears, whether of joy or sorrow, the viewer may never know.

After that little emotional scene, over the next few weeks, I sort of shut down. I wouldn't go outside, or even go out of my room much. I wouldn't sleep, I wouldn't talk, or eat. Well, not around my parents. Every night, I would walk down to the kitchen, and make a couple small sandwiches. But nothing that was too noticeable. Then, I'd go back up to my room and play Solitaire until somebody else woke up.

And, I started to look like I was getting fatter around my abdomen, even though I was eating a lot less. Aunt Flo didn't visit this month either. _Crap._

Today was when I decided to talk again. I'd gotten tired of not speaking at all.

"Honey, you need to get up," my mom said. I'd been laying on my bed for the past hour.

"I don't want to. I'm tired."

"Today you have to go to court and testify about your 'incident'."_I have to do what? No. I will not go to Court._

"WHAT! You never told me that!"

"Actually, we did. You just never listened. Be ready in a half hour."

We went to the courthouse, sat down in our designated places. Jay was there, in handcuffs, a police officer standing behind him. During the time I testified, his lawyer and my attourney argueing, and him pleading guilty, Jay's eyes never left me. I could feel them on me. There was more talking, and the jury left to debate. They came back into the courtroom, announced that he had five years of prison time, plus a fine of some amount. He deserved more, in my opinion.

After we were dismissed, nobody said anything. They walked Jay out, still in his handcuffs, and when he passed our table and looked me in the eyes, I realized something. I take back what I had though at the station, about feeling bad about telling them it was Jay. He deserves every single minute he's going to serve in prison. He deserves more than that. I hate him. I hate him for what he did to me. I hate him for hurting me. I. Hate. Him.

It's been a hard month. Even after the day at court, I was still high-strung. It was just like before. No sleeping, minimal eating (though my 'minimal' wasn't as small anymore), no seeing the sun's rays. But now, I was only thinking about one thing:_What about the baby continually growing inside me?_

My stomach's grown a little bigger; I just look a little chubby right now. But we all know it's not excess fat.

Yesterday, we'd called all our family and friends to tell them the news, both about my pregnancy and Jay's sentence. Only a few were supportive of me. None were related. I don't know about you, but it hurts, hard, when almost your whole family looks down on you because of something you couldn't control. And, they all said the same thing, in one way or another. Get an Abortion.

That's what's plaguing my mind at the time. Whether or not I should get an abortion. It would be quick, easy, and pretty painless. But only physically. I could tell, just thinking about it, that it would hurt to kill my child. They may not have been purposely conceived, but they exist now, whoever they are. It's weird calling it "My child". But they are. My parents asked me about 'my child' after dinner one night.

"Honey, we need to talk."

"If it's about having me go see a therapist, I'm not going. One, I'm not going to talk about my feelings to some stranger, and two, their name spells 'The rapist'. Are you sure that's good for me?" I asked with a huge hint of sarcasm.

"No, it's not about you. It's about the baby."

"…Oh. Well, go on."

"Well, did you ever think about having an abortion?" My dad asked me.

"I've thought about it, and decided not to." That's right. I'm not going to have an abortion. I may not ever forgive it's father for what he did to me, but I'll still have it. It deserves to live it's life.

"But, honey: You're not ready yet. You don't want a child. You don't know how to take care of one. An abortion will be quick, painless. We know how you feel about hurting people. Well, the baby won't feel it. It'll be painless, for both you and them." What did they say? How could my parents be such hypocrites?

"You know what? I'm going to tell you what I've been told for the past three years by my parents, who seem to have been taken and replaced by two hypocrites: 'Abortion is just a fancy name for _murder.'_ And I'm not going to murder. I will not murder the guy who did this to me, I will not murder my friends or _family_ that look down on my because of something that I couldn't control, and I will not murder my child." With that, I walked up to my room, my parents still sitting on the couch in shock.


	4. A Choice Ch 4

It's about five months into my pregnancy. And you can tell that I'm pregnant. My stomach doesn't have the little baby-bump it did a few months ago. Last week, I had an ultrasound, and got a pretty good look at my baby. Right when I saw the little blurry picture up on the monitor, I instantly fell in love. I don't know whether it was the giant head connected to the minute body, with miniscule fingers and toes, or my Motherly Instinct acting up, but I knew right then that I was going to keep this child, and guard him with all my life. That's right. I also found out he's a boy, along with my sudden urge to protect him. Who knew an ultrasound could be so life-altering?

Today, I'm walking to my friend's house. He's one of the only ones I have left after I was raped. And yes, I said walking. I also said he. Here's why: 1. It's only a couple blocks. It's broad daylight. Once I'm out of sight from my parent's house, I'm in sight of his. 2. I'm not somewhat afraid of him because he's gay. Yeah. But not the whole 'Oh Em Gee, that's so FABULUUSSS!' gay. **(No offense to gays. I don't think you talk like that.)** in fact, unless you got him talking about the right topics, you'd never know. That's what I like about him. He's not more girly than I, the girl, am.**(Again, no offense intended to gays.)**

I walked up to his open front door and just walked right in after announcing my arrival. Chris' house was sort of like my home away from home.

"Yay, my lil' Prego's here!" Chris said as he walked over to me and crushed me into a hug. "I missed you so much. Why didn't you, oh, I don't know, call again after you told me?"

"Can't… Breathe… Baby dies… Your fault…" I choke out. He quickly releases me. "And I didn't call because I forgot. I guess I was so hung up on thinking about other stuff. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. But we definitely need to catch up. Twenty questions, lightning round: How many little Gaithelets are going to be running around your house within the next year? Are they boys or girls? Can I be the Godfather?" He said this with a straight face. We sat down in his room, each of us on a beanbag.

"Okay. I'm having one boy according to the ultrasound, yes you can be the Godfather, I wouldn't want anyone else, and what the heck is a [i]Gaithelet[/i]?"

"You know, little baby Gaithes. Gaithelets. Simple twisted logic," Chris says easily. "Last question: What does Him-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named look like, and no, not Voldy?"

"Do I have to?" His pointed look at me, filled with a lot more meaning than the average look, told me all I needed. "Fine. He's pretty tall, taller than you, dark brown hair, brown, almost black eyes, strong jawline." I said, knowing what was going to come. He sat there thinking for a moment.

"Hhm. Sounds pretty hot. Wouldn't mind going out with him for a little while…" He trailed off, looking like he was in another world.

"Woah, woah, woah, no thinking like that about my rapist. I don't care if your Gay, Bi, or Trans., I will not allow it," Freaky images started to build in my mind, and I tried to push them away.

"Hey, I can't help it! Besides, it's your fault for putting those hot, sexy images in my mind by describing him perfectly! Don't judge me, woman!" He exclaims.

"No…. The images… it, it burns! AUGH! Get them out, get them out, get them out!" I mock scream while clutching my temples between my hands.

"Ha ha. Very funny. You can stop now, you know. Oh, want something to drink? I'm thirsty," He says.

"ADD much? And Coke please."

All he does is look at me with raised eyebrows before he walks down to the kitchen. I take this time to get up from my half engulfed position in the beanbag and pace around his room._ How the heck will I take care of a baby? I don't know how to take care of one! And before that, what will it feel like giving birth? I know it's going to hurt. But what if I get a C-Section? CAN I get a C-Section? Oh crap, what happens if I have a miss-carriage? Or if the baby has a disease, or disorder? Will I be able to finish school, go to college? Will I be able to take dance classes again? What happens when the few friends and family I have left hate me once the baby's born? What if my dad hates me for not having an abortion? Will he kick me out of the house? Disown me? Make me give him up for adoption? Try to kill my child?_

Hundreds of 'What if's are piling in my head, crowding it until they're all I can think of. I don't even notice Chris walking back up the stairs and into his room.

"What's wrong?" He asks, setting the drinks down on a table and walking over to me with a worried expression on his face. A hand wipes off tears I didn't know were falling. Stupid tears. Forcing me to say what's wrong. I take a deep breath and sigh.

The only thing that comes out of my mouth is "... I'm scared."

Chris crushes me to his chest, being careful of my swollen stomach, and rocks me back and forth. I bury my face in his shoulder and the tears fall freely now, like they weren't before.

He walked backwards and sat down on his bed, pulling me onto his lap and resting his chin on my head. It was a little awkward sitting there, seeing that I can't bend as much because of the basketball that I call my stomach, but it was a comfortable awkward. There was nothing romantic about how he held me. It was just comfort from friend to friend. This was how our friendship worked. Silences were comfortable. If he'd been rejected by somebody he really liked because they were the same gender, then I'd pull him into a big hug and reassure him that it's alright, he'd find somebody for himself. If I'm going to have a baby at 15 and am contemplating all the worry's and What Ifs, then he'd hold me close and just sit there and comfort me.

It was a few minutes before he said anything. "Don't worry about anything. I can just tell you'll be a great mother. Right when that little baby pops out, your mind will suddenly fill with all the knowledge you need to take care of him. It'll be like a bottle of ice cold water after running a marathon. Your mind will be so fresh with the knowledge, and happy with the joy of a baby, you'll just skip out of the room, still in your hospital gown, and prance down the halls screaming 'I'M A FRIGGIN MOMMY!' to the whole world. Then you'll just female dog slap all the guards and doctors that try to stop you, and run off outside mooning innocent passerby, still screaming 'I'M A MOM! AND I KNOW HOW TO BE A MOM! BEAT THAT!' Then skip off into the way too cliché sunset."

At first, I thought he was actually going to be serious and say something that's sentimental, but you should never expect that from Chris. I know that now. He gets too awkward when he can't crack a joke or tease when he's speaking. But his whole speech was so funny, that I laughed right out loud. He described it so perfectly that I could see it clearly in my mind.

"Thanks for helping me get my mind off things."

"No problem. It's the contract we signed when we first became friends."

"What contract?"

"You know, the one I'd written in the dirt beside the sandbox on the playground, when we became friends. I'd pushed you down the slide and you fell flat on your face. But then you got up laughing and told me to do it again. We spent our whole recess pushing each other down a slide and face planting in the dirt." He explained.

I smiled at the memory. "Oh yeah. I have no idea how I found my getting hurt funny. But it was. It was extremely funny then."

"Still is now…" I hear him mumble. I just glare at him, which makes him crack up. I elbow him where the sun don't shine. He pushes me off him so he can bend over with his arms protecting his little guys from any other attacks. "What was that for…?" He says in a sort of falsetto that makes me laugh even more.

"I'm proving that it's funny when you get hurt also," I say between my snorts. I know, I'm so ladylike.

"Oh, so you want to play like that, huh? Your being pregnant will not get you out of this," He says as he suddenly tackles me and starts tickling me.

"GET OFF ME!" I yell between laughs. It's freakishly hard to get away from him, and next to impossible because I'm off-balance with being pregnant. "Get…" laugh. "Off… Me…" guffaw. "..n-n-now… "Cue lack of breathing because off laughing too hard_ here_.

"I'm not on you," is his calm reply. He's stopped tickling me long enough for me to realize that he's not. He's just sitting off to the left side of me, smirking at my confused face. I just snort and hobble back up onto my feet and get my Coke that had been forgotten, and walk back over to a beanbag chair. And that's how we spend the rest of the day, sitting around, talking about random stuff, and just living the life I'd lost a few months ago.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Time skip~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's about two O'clock in the afternoon, andI'm walking down the stairs from my room when I feel an… odd sensation. I look down. My first thought: "Ew, how the heck did I wet my pants?" My second thought: "HOLY CRAP, SOMEBODY KILL ME NOW BUT SAVE THE BABY AND STOP THIS PAIN **RIGHT NOW**! "I'm bent over on my hands and knees with a severe pain coming from my abdomen. Of course, both my parents have to be away right now when I'm about to have a baby. I crawl over to the phone and call the first number that comes to mind.

"Ya." Chris answers with a bored tone.

"Chris, you better get over here right now, my water just broke, and my flippin' parents aren't here to drive me!" I didn't mean to yell at him. Stupid hormones.

"Oh, oh! Little Gaithelet's here! I'MMA COMING! DON'T YOU A WORRY, LITTLE MISS, I BE A GOOD PREGO TRANSPORTER, AND I'LL GIT YA TO THE BIRTH-Y PLACE BEFORE YOU CAN SAY 'I'm a mommy!'" Chris yells into the phone. I can't help but laugh at that, before a wave of spasms hit me.

"Let's hope that's true. But, please-" I stop and cry out in pain. "-get here soon. Thank you." Then hang up the phone. It's about a minute before I hear Chris' car in the driveway and him running up the steps.

"Hey, where are you?" He calls out.

"Down here," I say. He looks down then rushes over to me.

"Whoah. Okay, I have towels in the car, so don't worry. Can you walk? Wait, of course you can't. I'm just going to pick you up. Do not slap me if any hands appear in the wrong places." I can only grunt when he picks me up, bridal style." Please keep all hands, arms, legs, babies, umbilical cords, and extra bodies in the ride at all times. Thank you for riding the Deliverer. Please come again." He mumbles under his breath as we're going out to his car. He gently sits me down in the backseat where he'd lain out old towels, and shuts the door. He gets into the driver's seat and backs out of the driveway, speeding down the street. In no time, he's pulling up into the hospital parking lot and carrying me to the lobby.

"Pregnant girl about to give birth any minute, coming through!" He yells. A wheelchair is soon produced, which he sets me down in. I'm wheeled down to a room, where they set me up on a hospital bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Much shorter Time Skip~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At 7:34 P.M on May 15, my beautiful son is born. I sighed in relief when I heard his little screams. He's carefully handed into my arms, and I can just feel the biggest grin ever slowly creeping up on my face. "Shh, shh. Hey. It's mommy. I'm mommy. Mommy's here, Mommy's here.." I gently coo, looking down at his little face. He looks just like Jay, as much as I hate to admit it. Big deep brown eyes blinked up at me, with little tufts of almost black hair frame his small face.

Chris nudges me slightly, gesturing to the bundle of joy in my arms. "Are you going to name him, or will we be forever calling him 'Little Gaithelet'?"

"Shut up. I know a name. Welcome to your new life, Levi Benjamin Gaithe. It may not be perfect, but I'm going to make it my job to make it the best it can be."

I have no idea why I named him that. But even though he doesn't have a legitimate father, his Biological one should be able to have some part of him, even If they'll never meet each other. As Levi's mother, I'm going to make sure that he's never going to have to see meet him . Ever.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I don't think I've mentioned this before, so I'm going to say it now.

's 15, and Chris is 16 right now.

2. It's about January. I never said it, but she was raped in August.

DFTBA!


End file.
